A Daddy For Christmas. Linda Ford

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      Libby nodded. “For Christmas. Right?” She gave Clara a trusting look, then turned toward Eleanor. “God will answer our prayer for a new—”

      A silent message passed from Eleanor to Libby, and the younger child clamped her mouth shut.

      Clara pressed down alarm at Libby’s trusting expectation. God, please don’t let me fail this child.

      Eleanor turned to Clara. “Did God send plagues to Grandfather?”

      “Why on earth would you think that?” Maybe she’d quit reading Exodus. The girls took it so literally and applied it to their situation.

      “’Cause Grandfather said he would never let us go. Just like Pharaoh.”

      Clara tried to think how to respond. How could she explain the situation to them without giving them cause for alarm? Without saying things that Libby would inadvertently blurt out at the most inopportune times? “I’m your mother. I’m the one who decides what’s best for you.”

      Eleanor nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

      “I’d like to see Grandfather’s house full of frogs.” Libby pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

      “Girls, it’s time to get ready for bed.” She’d earlier filled the borrowed cooking pot from the borrowed bucket and it heated on the borrowed stove in the borrowed shack.

      Borrow. Borrow. Borrow. The word went round and round inside her head. Father would surely see it as failure and use it as proof she couldn’t provide for her children.

      She washed the girls as well as she could and heard their prayers. They whispered and giggled for a bit once they lay on their bedrolls. She caught the word Christmas several times, and every time the weight of it increased. Only a few weeks until the day they both looked forward to. Would she be able to keep her promise and provide them a home in time?

      Only with God’s help. She’d about run out of opportunity and strength to do anything on her own.

      Later, after the girls fell asleep, she explored her options. Bonnie and Claude fed her and provided this place of shelter. She must find a way to repay them.

      And she just might be able to do it.

      If Blue didn’t prove difficult.

      The next morning, she was ready to go to the house for breakfast when Bonnie called. She cautioned the children before they left. “Now, girls, don’t eat too much. And for goodness’ sake, don’t chatter too much.”

      Blue crossed the yard as they exited the shack.

      Libby rushed up to him. “Carry me.”

      He looked surprised for a moment, then swung her into his arms.

      “Libby!” She hadn’t thought to warn her daughter against that.

      “It’s okay, Mama. Isn’t it, Mr. Blue?” Libby grinned from her perch.

      “She’s not heavy.”

      Clara wasn’t concerned that he might find her too much of a weight. She was worried that Libby had attached herself to this man so completely after bemoaning the fact that everyone left. Or they left everyone. Libby should be prepared for leaving Blue soon.

      They reached the house, and he set Libby on her feet.

      Clara wanted to say something, warn him not to encourage her daughter, but now was not the time.

      Claude asked God’s blessing on the food, and then they dug in to the generous breakfast—biscuits fresh from the oven, canned peaches, oatmeal porridge. A very satisfying meal.

      Blue rose as soon as he was done. “I’ve got work to do.” He paused and looked at Clara. “Do you need anything?”

      She narrowed her eyes at him. Must he continually treat her as if she couldn’t do a thing on her own? “I’ll be sure and let you know if I do.”

      Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. He blinked and then a slow, teasing grin filled his face. “Yeah, I’m sure you will.” He jammed his hat on his head and, chuckling, left the house.

      Claude followed on his heels.

      Bonnie stared after the pair. “Well, I’ll be.” She shook her head. “I believe that’s the first time I’ve heard Blue laugh. He’s a real loner, you know.”

      Sure couldn’t prove it by her, Clara thought as she turned to wash the dishes. Wouldn’t a loner leave her alone? And Blue didn’t.

      She finished the dishes, hung the towels to dry and bid Bonnie goodbye. Time to proceed with her plans.

       Chapter Four

      Blue cut the piece of lumber. The smell of the wood filled his senses. As his mind consumed it, he felt himself drowning in the present. That was his way of forgetting the past and ignoring the future. Later he’d sweep up the sawdust that fell at his feet and burn it, enjoying yet another scent. He shifted his mind to the process necessary to complete a pew. Measure, cut, fit, secure, sand, polish. Each step held comforting details to occupy his thoughts.

      The outer door clattered open. Now what? Who’d have thought being alone would be so difficult?

      Eleanor and Libby rushed into the room, bringing with them a cloud of cold air. Clara followed.

      Blue leaned back on his heels and studied them. He saw the determination in Clara’s face and stiffened his spine in preparation for whatever complaint she meant to voice.

      “I’ve decided.” She nodded as if to persuade herself.

      His eyebrows went upward. What had she decided? And did she plan to tell him? He guessed she did or she wouldn’t be there, facing him with such a fierce look.

      “I’m going to help you.”

      His mouth fell open, and he snapped it shut.

      She held up her hand. “Now before you try and dissuade me, listen to my reasons. I cannot continue to accept charity. It makes me look weak, and that’s not something I can allow. I expect you’re getting paid for the work.”

      It wasn’t exactly the case. He drew wages from the ranch. Eddie had allowed him to take on this job off the ranch because it suited everyone to get the church done as quickly as possible.

      “I’m not asking much, but I will help, and you can pay me from the pay you receive. All I need is enough to buy my meals from Bonnie.”

      Well, if she didn’t take the cake when it came to expectations. “What do you know about woodworking?”

      “Nothing. But how hard can it be?”

      He snorted. “I learned woodworking from my father.” Back СКАЧАТЬ